


discomfiture

by DuendeJunior



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Victuuri Summer Lovin' Fic Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 14:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15997568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuendeJunior/pseuds/DuendeJunior
Summary: mass noun. A feeling of unease or embarrassment.Or: Yuuri breaks his arm right after announcing his retirement and right before his and Victor’s second honeymoon. To say it bothers him is an understatement.





	discomfiture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lanerose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanerose/gifts).



> We're finally revealing our works for the Victuuri Summer Lovin' Exchange! Lanerose, I hope you like it <3 For your prompt " _Victuuri five years post-canon domestic fluff / when Yuuri is retiring_ ".  
> Thank you so much for all the mods for setting up this wonderful event, thank you Addy for your beta work, and a big thanks to everyone at the wewritevictuuri and viktuurifluffbang servers for helping me when I got tremendously stuck. You all rock <3

When it came to injuries, Yuuri knew he had had exceptional luck throughout his career. Yes, he’d had his fair share of bloody noses and bruises, but he’d managed to surpass Victor’s streak of five consecutive World Championships without suffering anything that would have severely affected the quality of his skating.

And then, three weeks ago, three days after winning his sixth stint at Worlds and announcing his retirement, Makkachin had tripped him up and now he had his right arm on a cast.

For the umpteenth time, Yuuri eyed the shapes covering the plaster – everyone at the St. Petersburg rink had signed it, including Lilia (which had been a minor miracle according to Georgi). Phichit had left his mark right in the middle, along with a hamster doodle and a plea for Yuuri not to let the doctor ruin his art when the time came to take the cast off. And, of course, Victor and Makkachin had left their marks, Victor’s ridiculously flowery signature ( _only the best for my number one fan_ , he had said with a wink, and Yuuri once again wished he could tell his fifteen-year-old self how much of a cheesy dork Victor Nikiforov was) and Makkachin’s bright red paw print.

None of those things stopped his arm from itching or stopped him from being a complete nuisance, but they warmed his heart nonetheless.

With a resigned sigh and a half-smile, Yuuri procured his _World’s Best Dog Dad_ mug and resumed the task of taking the vitamin D supplements Dr. Ivanova had prescribed. They tasted terrible, but she had guaranteed that they would be big help when it came to healing his bone.

A warm hand landed on the small of his back as soon as he put the mug down on the sink.

“My love, do you know why Makkachin is pawing at the linen closet?” Victor asked him, thumb drawing little circles on Yuuri’s skin.

Mindful of his arm, Yuuri leaned towards him, chasing the warmth. “One of her toys rolled under there a few days ago, I think.”

“And she only noticed it now?”

“Mila gave her a new teddy bear, remember? She was distracted.” The sound of a hardboard cabinet being insistently scratched reached their ears. “I guess she remembered it now.”

Victor let out a deep sigh, shoulders slumping. “Time to play Indiana Jones, then.” He kissed Yuuri’s temple.

“No, I’ll do it,” Yuuri offered. Crouching wasn’t among Victor’s favorite activities these days, and kneeling was reserved to _special occasions_ only. “Let me just...”

He got as far as reaching for the tap, intent on giving his mug a cursory one-handed wash, when Victor stopped his hand. “Nope, you go rest some more,” he said, putting the mug on the drying rack instead.

“Vitya...”

“You’re gonna fall on your ass trying to reach under that thing, and I won’t stand for that.” The hand on Yuuri’s back sneaked lower and Victor gave his butt a playful squeeze. “As much as I love giving you a massage.”

Yuuri pouted, trying to send Victor his most unamused stare. Judging by the sweetness of the kiss placed on his brow, he had failed.

“And don’t try to rearrange the cabinet without me,” he added. “I saw you eyeing our plates earlier today.”

Yuuri huffed. “Those ceramic ones are less than an inch from falling, Vitya.”

Victor pulled him close, mindful of his cast. “We’ll do it later.” His tone was final.

Yuuri _was_ going to find a way to start doing that on his own, but he relented for the moment. “Fine, fine,” he said as Victor walked him to the couch. Before Yuuri could sit down, Victor gave him another hearty pat on the butt. “For good luck,” he said with a wide smile. Yuuri snorted.

“Go,” Yuuri said, shooing him. “I’ll be fine.”

He waited until Victor disappeared into the bathroom to retrieve Makkachin’s hidden treasure to make himself as comfortable as he could. Since Yuuri had come back from the hospital, Victor had turned their couch into a mess of pillows and cushions and would rearrange them any time Yuuri displayed the slightest hint of soreness. A little sliver of guilt poked at Yuuri’s heart every time that happened, but he suppressed it with surprise at the fact that they still had enough pillows to cover their bed.

After adjusting the pile of pillows for the seventh time, Yuuri found a seating arrangement that didn’t bother him too much and turned on the television. The late morning news didn’t interest him that much, but the apartment felt much too quiet even with Victor’s distant coos and Makkachin’s barking.

Yuuri let his head fall backwards, and the guilt grew stronger.

They weren’t supposed to be doing any of this – discussing about mugs, finding Makkachin’s old toys, cycling through news channels. They should be helping Phichit iron out the details for his future ice show. They should be packing for their second honeymoon. They should be talking about moving back to Hasetsu.

There was a number of things they should be doing _now_ , but Yuuri had to go and be stupid and careless and break his _stupid_ arm. He couldn’t even wear his ring properly, since the cast covered his fingers, and now it dangled from a chain on his neck (all the _Lord of the Rings_ jokes had been made when Yuri and Georgi found out; Victor called them all _terribly unoriginal_ ).

His leg started bouncing up and down, and irritation ate at his insides. He should get up again, he should go and see about the mugs on their cabinet, he should be doing _something_ other than staring at the ceiling while the news anchor went on and on about construction work at one of the St. Petersburg metro lines. He shouldn’t be a lump on the couch who had to wait for Victor to do things.

A loud yelp came from the general direction of the bathroom. Startled, Yuuri sat up straighter.

“Vitya?” He called.

“I’m fine!” Victor said. He entered Yuuri’s field of vision, rubbing his nose. “Makkachin got too excited and pushed me towards the wall.”

Yuuri sighed. “Be careful, you two.”

Victor walked around the couch and flopped down beside the pile of pillows where Yuuri rested his arm. He wriggled a bit, and as soon as he was settled he threw his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders and pressed down on the point where Yuuri’s neck met his shoulder. Yuuri couldn’t hold back a pained groan.

“Babe, you’re a mess of knots,” Victor observed, rubbing tiny circles on Yuuri’s nape. “We’re going to get a massage as soon as Dr. Ivanova saws off your cast.”

Yuuri made a noise deep in his throat. “That would be nice.” He felt the pillows pressing against his side – Victor trying to scoot closer – and a big, gentle hand enveloping his left one.

Victor stopped the ministrations on his neck and started pressing right below his thumb. “You know”, he said, “I’m half-tempted to put my ring on a necklace too. I like it when we match.”

“You want both of us to be Ring-bearers?”

“Urgh, not you too.”

“You talk like you’re not the biggest Tolkien fan this side of the Neva.”

“ _Everyone_ has made this joke already”, Victor protested. “And either way, our snowflake is hardly part of Black Speech.”

Yuuri chuckled, but it sounded a little hollow to his ears.

He looked down at his chest, at the ring that gleamed soft and gold with the light that came from the open balcony doors. It should be on his finger. He should…

“Do you need these pillows, sunshine?” Victor asked. Yuuri shot him a surprised look, brows furrowed, and then glanced at the pillows.

“… Why?”

“You’re too far, that’s all.” He raised their joined hands. “I can keep your arm safe, don’t worry.”

Yuuri nodded, and Victor knocked the pile on the ground.

“Now that’s better,” he said as he cuddled closer, his head resting on Yuuri’s shoulder and Yuuri’s hand lying over his thigh.

In the past, Victor sometimes tried to touch him as a means of distraction when Yuuri was upset, which pissed Yuuri off when he realized what was happening. The absence of touch, however, sometimes made Yuuri spiral further. To him it felt like they spent half of their lives together trying to find the balance.

But now Victor’s touch was grounding. It signaled he’d be here, ready to listen whenever Yuuri found the words he wanted to say.

Closing his eyes, Yuuri let his head fall softly over Victor’s one, a mop of still healthy hair cushioning the impact, and inhaled the fading scent of his shampoo.

“I’m sorry”, he blurted out.

Beside him, Victor made a curious “hm?” sound.

“For being a careless idiot. I ruined all of our plans.”

Victor didn’t say anything for a moment. He only kept squeezing Yuuri’s hand between his.

“Just tell me one thing.”

“What?”

“Do you blame Makkachin for what happened?”

Yuuri’s eyes flew open. That thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“No?” He said. “She just wanted to play. She couldn’t know I would get hurt.”

“Exactly.” Raising Yuuri’s hand to his mouth, Victor kissed each of his knuckles. “You couldn’t know you’d get hurt either.”

“But I’m the human in this equation, Victor. Makkachin doesn’t have to anticipate things, I do.”

“You said it all: you’re _human_. You can’t plan for everything.” He poked Yuuri until he moved his back away from the couch a little, so Victor could wrap an arm around his waist. “And who said we can’t have our second honeymoon right here?”

Yuuri let out a disbelieving snort. “On the couch?”

“Why not? You don’t even need to lie down. Just give me a pillow and I’ll arrange the rest.”

Yuuri could feel Victor’s teeth grazing his neck. “Vitya, your knees...”

“I believe a second honeymoon fits the _special occasions_ stipulation.” He smiled right before nipping at a patch of skin. Yuuri gasped in surprise. “And then afterwards we’ll make all of our friends jealous by announcing out _third_ honeymoon, this time in Thailand.”

“This sounds like the tagline for an action movie.”

“It’s gonna have a lot of action _indeed_.” His fingers started dancing on Yuuri’s waist, and Yuuri’s gasp turned into choked laughter.

Victor lifted his head from Yuuri’s neck and released his hand to touch Yuuri’s face, pushing Yuuri’s slipping glasses up his nose. Years of living together didn’t make Yuuri’s heart race any less when looking into those ocean-colored eyes. “You always do so much for me, my love. Let me pamper you this time, please?”

Yuuri sighed. “OK,” he said, giving Victor’s lips a peck. “But I’m back to doing my own thing as soon as possible. Deal?”

“Of course,” Victor said against his lips before kissing him again. “Have you known me to prevent my husband from doing anything he wants?”

“Once in a while...”

Victor stuck out his tongue, and Yuuri laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

That was when they noticed the apartment was very quiet, aside from the TV, which was blaring the opening scene from a terrible movie they have seen about ten times.

“… We should check on Makkachin, shouldn’t we?”

“Definitely.”

**Author's Note:**

> And then they found Makkachin partying hard with the toilet paper. Probably.


End file.
